


Mon Petit Ami

by will (pointedperception)



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Cooking Lessons, Crime Scenes, Domestic, Emotional Manipulation, Eventual Smut, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluid Sexuality, Hannibal and Cooking, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Murder Husbands, Pretending to Be Gay, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, but actually being gay, do we even have to tag cannibalism anymore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-11
Updated: 2015-06-28
Packaged: 2018-02-04 06:12:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1768531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pointedperception/pseuds/will
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal proposes that he and Will pretend to be in a relationship to better help Will get inside the head of the most recent serial killers. But at what point does it stop being an act, or was it really ever one to begin with?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Hannibal had invited Will to his home for dinner, as he regularly did, but this time Will had accepted his request. Hannibal had suggested an extremely unorthodox method of seizing the current elusive serial killer and though Will was intrigued and eager to catch them, he had his reservations about Hannibal’s methods.

“You catch killers by getting into their heads, Will. Consider this to be expediting the process.” Hannibal held the chair out from the dining table, motioning for Will to sit with his free hand. Will obliged, ignoring the food to turn his gaze back to the psychiatrist.

“You want me to pretend to be your lover, Doctor Lecter?” His lips curled to the sides as his brow furrowed. This has to be the most ridiculous method he had ever heard of. But considering the circumstances, perhaps it was crazy enough to work. A lesbian Bonnie and Clyde of sorts, killing those with track records of homophobia. A noble cause, if not so deadly.

“Yes. Is that a problem?” Hannibal chimed, daintily taking a bite of food, savoring the taste.

Will watched his lips move for a moment before copying him. “I’m not gay.”

  
“Precisely why this exercise is necessary,” Hannibal retorted, eyes flitting over Will’s. The corners of his lips rose, having expected this as his initial response.

“You think I have to be gay to catch a gay killer?” Will’s eyes narrowed, not sure whether the doctor was internally laughing at him or if he was being sincere. Maybe both.

“No, but I think it’s important to know what a same-sex relationship is like first hand to better understand the killer’s motives,” Hannibal stated, putting down his fork. “They are working as a couple.” He raised his wine glass to toast Will’s, the glass coming together with a soft clink of understanding between the two of them.

“How would you know any better than I would what that would be like, Doctor Le– Hannibal?” Will chuckled, sipping the bitter, dark wine.

“I have been in a relationship with a man before,” Hannibal said coolly, carefully cutting off a bite of foie gras.

Will nearly inhaled his wine, trying not to choke. “Oh.”

  
Hannibal paused, finishing his bite before continuing. “Does that surprise you, Will?”

“No, I mean, I never really gave it much thought, I just – assumed. I’m sorry,” Will flushed, looking down at his food as if it would erase his embarrassment. It offered him no solace.

“It’s perfectly fine. I wouldn’t expect you to know one way or another. Rest assured, I will not do anything that would make you uncomfortable, nor will I force you to do anything either.” An assumptive clause, as Hannibal knew that Will realized this was the best idea given the circumstances.

“So, when’s our first date?” Will smirked, finishing off his wine.

“I believe we’re having it right now.”


	2. Rendez-Vous

The logistics of pretending to be a couple were notably harder than actually being in a relationship with someone, as Will Graham soon found out. Only Jack was allowed to know that it was an act; anyone else and it would lose the intended effect, or so Hannibal said.

What unsettled Will the most was how unfazed everyone was by he and Hannibal becoming a couple. Some even said how they were glad they had finally gotten together, leaving Will without any words that weren’t lies. Sure, he and Hannibal had been close, perhaps having a non-conventional platonic relationship for two men, but did everyone perceive it to really be that sexual? Yes, apparently, was the answer.

“If we are to make this work, Will, I intend to court you properly,” Hannibal explained, straightening Will’s tie. He had invited him over again, this time rather early in the afternoon, which was unusual.

“I won’t object to dates, Doctor Lecter.” Hannibal raised an eyebrow at him. “Sorry, Hannibal. I’m trying to get used to it.”

Hannibal smiled, patting down the collar on Will’s jacket. “Lovers call each other by first names, William. But I do know that this change, along with the others, will take some getting used to. Consider tonight to be a practice run.”

“Where are we going exactly?” Will asked, checking himself out in the full-length mirror in Hannibal’s bedroom. The tuxedo looked out of place on him, like he was two dolls that had been crudely mashed together. He had always hated the feeling of wearing money. Too many opportunities to mess it up and ruin it.

            The closet door muffled Hannibal’s voice as he retrieved his own tie. “ _Mignon_ ,” he said, returning to Will’s side. “It’s an opera,” he clarified, after noting the confusion on his partner’s face.

            “I don’t think I’ve ever been to an opera before.”

“Well, this night will be one of many firsts for you then, won’t it?” Hannibal smiled, leading Will to his car. Will nodded, smiling awkwardly in return.

            It was a quiet, quick drive to the opera house, though Will could feel beads of sweat starting to drip down his neck. Crowds weren’t exactly his strong suit. Hannibal must’ve noticed his heightened anxiety, as his hand rested on the small of Will’s back, guiding him inside.

            “There’s no need to be nervous, Will,” he smiled, not moving his hand as they entered the reception area of the building, his eyes darting around the room looking for familiar faces. Many people seemed to recognize Hannibal, exchanging smiles and brief eye contact with him.

            Will swallowed, trying to force a smile, or any expression that didn’t read as utterly terrified and uncomfortable. He could feel the stares and the assumptions being thrown on him as Hannibal paraded him around like a shiny new toy. His mind was blinded by the white noise of gossip swirling around the room and he instinctually shrunk closer to Hannibal, trying to escape from it. “When does the opera start?”

            “In about 15 minutes,” Hannibal replied, looking over at Will, noticing the sweat on his neck. “I know it can be overwhelming at first. Try to focus on me.”

            Will nodded, a pink spreading across his cheeks at Hannibal’s observation of his discomfort. Hannibal’s mind felt composed, controlled; almost to a menacing degree, but it was still soothing.

            “Hannibal!” Will didn’t know he had closed his eyes until he opened them and saw a middle aged woman standing in front of them, her short black bob contrasting her long, bright red dress. She was brimming with excitement and a certain flavor of disassociation that came with social events.

            “Mrs. Komeda, how nice to see you again,” Hannibal stated, lowering his head in a friendly nod.

            “Please, Hannibal, I’ve told you – call me Vivian. I’ve missed your company; you haven’t frequented the opera lately or had any dinner parties,” she goaded. Hannibal chuckled in response.

            “I’m afraid I’ve been a bit busy lately, Vivian,” he smiled, sliding his hand around to grip Will’s side. “I don’t believe you’ve met my – _partner_ , Will Graham.”

            _Partner_. A deep blush ignited on Will’s skin, spreading up his neck like wildfire. Vivian clasped her hands together, her mouth extending into a wild smile, her eyes trying to meet Will’s.

            “Oh, my, it’s so nice to meet you, Will! Unless Hannibal has been hiding something from us, I believe you’re the first partner of his that he’s ever taken out. You must be very special.”

Will could only focus on the white of her teeth, noticing a small red smudge from her lipstick staining her left canine. Hannibal’s fingers clenched tighter around his waist, prodding him. His gaze flitted up to her eyes, then quickly back down to her nose upon contact. He strained a smile, opening his mouth to attempt to speak before Hannibal cut him off.

            “Very special indeed,” Hannibal smiled, though Will could feel his lips twisting in embarrassment at his decorum.

            “It’s nice to meet you, Vivian,” Will spat out finally, and Hannibal’s grip relaxed a bit. As if sent from God himself, the lights flickered, giving Will relief from the conversation.

            “We’ll have to catch up more after the show, both of you,” Vivian chirped. “And don’t forget about those dinner parties, Hannibal. I’m sure everyone would love to meet your handsome date.”

            “I’ll see what I can do.” They exchanged goodbyes before Vivian headed to the theater, following the rest of those still in the foyer. Hannibal turned his attention back to his date. “Will.”

            Will studied Hannibal’s tie, not willing to look him in the eyes. He had failed, unable to even make simple small talk with one of his acquaintances; certainly not up to Hannibal’s standards. Maybe this wasn’t such a good plan after all. Suddenly there was a light pressure on his chin, raising his head upwards.

            “I know this is not easy for you, Will; but it will get easier, and I am here to help you. Do not forget that.” Hannibal was… smiling? Will couldn’t help but to smile in return.

            “I thought you were angry at me,” he said softly, nervously laughing it off. It wasn’t more than a second before Hannibal’s arm around his waist was pulling him in, his hand holding Will’s jaw steady as he leaned in, warm lips pressing gently against Will’s for only a moment before retreating. The fiery blush on Will’s neck shot through his entire body, his eyes going wide in surprise as he searched for some semblance of language to come out of his mouth.

            “We should go sit down, hm?” Hannibal grinned, turning away to lead him to the theater. Will didn’t remember telling his legs to move or his body to sit down beside Doctor Lecter, but there he was in the plush red chairs of the Lyric Theater, music falling on ears deafened by the sound of his own heartbeat and the repeating rhetoric chanting in his head: _Hannibal Lecter kissed me_.

            He didn’t remember the next two hours either, the small talk Hannibal engaged in after the show, or even the ride home before he heard his dogs barking outside Hannibal’s car.

            “We’re here,” Hannibal stated, turning to Will in the passenger seat. “I had a good time tonight, Will. I do hope I didn’t overstep my boundaries.”

            “What, by kissing me?” The words slipped out before Will knew he was saying them instead of thinking them.

            “I promised I would not do anything to make you uncomfortable and I’m afraid I may have broken that by kissing you. I apologize, I should have asked your permission first,” Hannibal admitted, a tinge of sincere guilt in his voice.

            Will looked sideways to Hannibal. “It’s fine, I just – I wasn’t expecting it,” he wet his lips with his tongue, continuing, “but why did you kiss me, anyway?”

            “I thought it might help you calm down.”

            “Right.”

            Hannibal reached over, his hand resting on Will’s shoulder. “You should go get some sleep, Will. It’s nearly midnight.”

Will nodded, thanking Hannibal politely and retreating to the warmth of his home and his dogs. He watched with a mixture of relief and dejection as Hannibal’s headlights disappeared into the night and he curled up in bed alone, his thoughts swirling into dreams.


	3. Proximity

 

_We go to Mr. Palmer’s apartment; he answers the doorbell, unsuspecting of his fate. He knew us, or one of us, but not by our choice. Disgusting, unnatural, filthy; his words echo in our ears, but they only describe him. I jump on top of him as my partner pulls out a knife. We want him to know what’s coming; how the world will see him for the repulsive pig he is. I watch the blood seep out of his shirt as she slashes his chest with an X – we have marked him off our list, out of our lives. He begins to scream, so I hold open his jaw as my partner pulls out his tongue. I slam his jaw closed and watch him bite his tongue in half with his teeth, wondering if he can still taste the blood pouring from it. My partner lets me silence him with a slash to the throat. This is our revenge._

“What do you see, Will?” Jack’s words echo in Will’s head as he comes back to his own thoughts, standing above Mr. Palmer’s body in his D.C. apartment. Jack had called him in early that morning; their killer couple had struck for the fourth time, and Jack needed more insight to help identify and catch them.

“They knew him, targeted him because of what he said to them. His words erased any empathy they might feel towards him. This was done out of rage, anger; it’s an act of revenge and passion,” Will said coolly, turning away from the corpse.

“So he didn’t approve of their sexuality?” Jack asked, following Will into the hallway as Katz, Zeller, and Price continued collecting evidence inside.

“Most likely a family member, or a friend of the family, or maybe even an ex. They knew him; they expected better from him,” Will clarified. “They may have a list of more people like Mr. Palmer who have dehumanized them.”

“We’ll have to stop them soon, then,” Jack commented. Will half-heartedly nodded, yawning. “Up late, Will?”

“I, uh, had a date with Doctor Lecter,” Will stammered, “so you can blame him.”

Jack’s lips turned downwards as he asked Will to follow him outside, allowing them to be alone. “Will,” he started, “I know this little game of pretend between you and Hannibal Lecter is supposed to help you catch these killers, but I need to know that it’s actually helping.”

Will was silent for a moment, pondering over how last night could have possibly helped him at all for analyzing the killers, but all that he could remember was how warm Hannibal’s lips were and how comforting the arm around his waist felt. He shook it off, irritated. “It’s only been a few days, of course it’s not helping much yet.”

“Well, it better start helping you soon. I’m getting impatient here and if this either doesn’t work or you get too close, we’ve wasted time and lives that we can’t get back,” Jack snapped, stepping away from Will.

Will’s brow creased. “What do you mean, ‘get too close’?”

“You know exactly what I mean,” he barked in a low, even tone. Before Will could respond, Jack had retreated back to the apartment, and Will took that as his sign to leave.

Popping an aspirin in his mouth, Will started up his car. The comforting rumble of the engine was interrupted by his phone vibrating against his thigh. He fumbled it out of his pocket, seeing Hannibal’s name with a small heart emoticon beside it light up on the caller ID.

“Since when do you go into my phone behind my back?”

“I assure you that I did not pry, Will. That would be rude.”

Will sighed heavily, running his hand over his face in frustration. “So disturbing my privacy to add a heart beside your name isn’t rude?” Hannibal made a little ‘tsk’ noise on the other end. Will had come to learn that meant he was both annoyed and amused, emotions which came together more often with Will than anyone else.

“I thought it might help you get in the mood.”

“Yeah, well, for future reference, heart emojis aren’t really my style. Why are you calling?”

“I have a proposition for you, if you are in a position to hear it,” Hannibal said coolly.

“I’m not having sex with you.”

“Will, I would never dare to ask such a thing. I wanted to know if you would like to help me host a dinner party tomorrow.”

Will’s free hand clenched the steering wheel as a sudden wave of anxiety crashed over him. “I-I’m – I’ve never hosted a party before. I’m not good at social events, if you couldn’t tell from last night.”

“I would be doing most of the work, of course; I would like you there so I could introduce you to my… acquaintances,” Hannibal specified. So Will was to be his arm candy. It was markedly better than hosting a party, though based on how their opera date went, Will wasn’t too thrilled about it regardless.

“I suppose I could stand there and look pretty for a few hours.”

“I’ll see you at 4 tomorrow, then. Goodbye, Will.”

He waited to hear the soft click of conclusion before shoving his phone back in his pocket, mentally cursing at himself for not putting up more of a fight. It was a necessity, though; a matter of therapy, of getting into their roles so he could better catch the murderers.

 

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

 

Will showed up at 4, per Hannibal’s request, dressed in his best shirt, blazer, and tie. When Hannibal opened the door, he twisted his lips in disapproval.

“Is something wrong?”

“Did you bring something to change into, or… is that what you were planning on wearing tonight?”

Will looked down, not seeing anything wrong with his attire. “It’s the best I have,” he shrugged. Maybe he should’ve kept the tuxedo for another night.

“I’ll have to take you to my seamstress before our next date,” Hannibal said, letting out a sharp sigh, arm extended to invite Will inside despite his apparently offensive apparel.  Will’s mind shouted protests, but he thought better and held his tongue for now.

In the kitchen, a small army of chefs had taken over and were helping to prepare the hors d’oeuvres. Hannibal dove in between them, directing them in an orchestrated dance of cooking as Will dazedly watched from the corner of the room. He had seen Hannibal cook before, but never with others helping him – it was certainly a performance. His feeble attempts at making boxed macaroni and cheese on his stovetop were a disgrace to the very word “cooking” in comparison.

“Would you like to help, Will?” Hannibal smiled, tediously garnishing the heart tartare pastries. Will’s mouth went dry.

“I – I don’t want to mess it up.”

“Nonsense. There are no mistakes when it comes to food, only opportunities to learn. Please.”

He took a step back, nodding for Will to come around his island to join him. Will hesitantly obeyed, washing his hands first, then taking his place beside Hannibal, who demonstrated how to arrange the appetizer.

“There is a certain art to the culinary field, but it is up to you to find your own style. You are welcome to copy me or try something different; either way is fine by me.”

“My style is more oven-baked casseroles than gourmet meat pastries.”

He struggled to get the chunks of meat to stay together as he messily shoved them into the puff pastry. It looked like a child’s scribble compared to the masterpiece Hannibal had created.

“It’s just not my thing, I’m sorry.”

“I will help you, then.”

Hannibal reached around him, putting Will’s hands in his own. Will’s pulse jumped at the close contact. He felt the warmth of Hannibal’s cheek pressed against his own, followed by the light pressure of body weight against his back. It was quite a vulnerable position, having Hannibal’s hands wrapped around his own, his body pressed so closely to Will’s; he couldn’t escape even if he wanted to, but it was strangely comforting at the same time.

Hannibal’s hands guided his like a puppet, his voice a low whisper in his ear telling him what to do. Will was so focused on Hannibal he didn’t even pay attention to the food; it unfolded before him into a dish identical to Hannibal’s. His trance ended when the warm pressure from Hannibal’s body disappeared from his own and he looked around, trying to pull himself back to the present.

“Wow, that’s…”

“Beautiful,” Hannibal smiled, placing their creation on a platter with the others. “Like any art, it takes time to master the skill, but it is truly rewarding in the end.”

“I’ve never considered myself the artsy type.”

“Yet your mind fosters the same creativity.”

“Empathy isn’t creativity.”

“It’s emotion and imagination, which some would argue are the key components to art.”

Will let Hannibal’s words simmer in his brain; it was a unique perspective, and he had to admit Hannibal had a good point. “Judging by my fashion choices I have a long way to go, don’t I?”

“I’m sorry, it’s really not as terrible as I’m making it seem. But if you would like, I can see if anything in my wardrobe will fit you well enough for tonight,” Hannibal offered.

Will darted his tongue between his lips. “I’d hate to impose.”

“You aren’t imposing. Come, let’s see what we can do.”

Hannibal placed a hand on Will’s lower back, leading him upstairs to his bedroom. It was just as elegant and extravagant as the rest of Hannibal’s home; the light grey walls contrasted with the dark, rich blue tones of accents around the room. Will ran a hand over the navy leather chairs in front of the fireplace as Hannibal looked through his closet. Though his bedroom was far less unsettling décor wise than the rest of the house, Will’s stomach turned with uneasiness; it was too intimate, too close.

“It may be a little too big on you, but I think it may work.” Hannibal held out a dark grey blazer with a faint blue plaid pattern on it. It probably cost more alone than the tuxedo Will had rented, but he didn’t want to think about it right now.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you wear this one before,” Will noted, tossing aside his own tattered, cotton blazer and letting Hannibal dress him. “How many suits do you have, anyway?”

“Too many. It’s a bit of an obsession, I’m afraid,” he chuckled, flattening out the blazer on Will’s shoulders. He turned him around to face a full-length mirror in the corner. “What do you think?”

It wasn’t a perfect fit, but it did fit a lot better than Will expected. His shirt didn’t look too awful under it, either.

“It’s an improvement, for sure.”

“Perhaps with a different tie?”

Hannibal already had a tie in his hands. His eyes flitted over Will’s, wanting to rip off his dingy, striped atrocity of a necktie. Will obliged, placing it unceremoniously on his jacket, turning to face Hannibal again. His fingers brushed the back of Will’s neck as he fed the tie under his shirt collar, carefully twisting it into a perfect double Windsor. Will inhaled sharply, focusing on the slight curve of Hannibal’s lips to avoid eye contact. It wasn’t any better.

“Much better.”

“Thanks. I’m sorry I didn’t come better dressed.”

“Would it be selfish if I said I just wanted to see you in my clothes?” Hannibal admitted, a sly grin on his face. Will turned bright red, trying to look away, but Hannibal grabbed his head and softly raised it. He wasn’t allowed to escape this.

“Am I making you uncomfortable, Will?”

“I’m not sure.” It was an honest answer.

“We need everyone to believe this is real, Will. If you’re visibly uncomfortable with my proximity, it won’t be convincing.”

“I’m uncomfortable with anyone’s proximity. It’s just me. Tell them that.”

“Will.” Hannibal slid his thumb under Will’s chin, bringing their faces closer. “This is simply a suggestion, but I do think it would help if we practiced.”

Will furrowed his brow. “Practiced what, exactly?”

“Kissing.”

Will’s heart leapt into his throat and stayed there, pounding his face into a blush. He had to be joking.

“And how would that help anything?”

“Like I said, it’s a suggestion. I stand by not forcing you into anything you don’t want to do. But I do think practicing would erase the novelty of the action and perhaps ease your discomfort.”

Hannibal was not joking; like everything he did, he took this very seriously. Perhaps a little too seriously.

“Maybe just once,” Will murmured, not believing this entire situation was real and both hoping it was and it wasn’t at the same time. Whatever it was that Hannibal was making him feel, it was as much unnerving as it was exciting. Just like every other aspect of Hannibal.

“If you want to stop, do so. I will not take offense. Do you understand?”

Will nodded, closing his eyes as Hannibal leaned in, closing the gap between their bodies. He let their noses touch first, allowing their breaths to mingle, then gently pressed his lips against Will’s. It was chaste, sweet; it was affection that Will didn’t realize he had been craving until that moment. He kissed Hannibal back, feeling the curve of his lips and the impression they made on his own when they parted. Will’s head was swimming to the rhythm they had quickly fallen into. He pushed frantically against Hannibal’s lips until suddenly they were gone and a hand was pressing on his shoulder, holding him back. Will was upset he had stopped, but more upset at himself for being upset about it. Kissing Hannibal Lecter wasn’t something he was supposed to like. It wasn’t something he wanted to like.

“Are you okay, Will?”

“Yeah, I’m… that was surprisingly okay.”

“It’s nearly six, we should head downstairs before the guests get here,” Hannibal smiled. “And Will, remember that you always have me as your gauge. I know large groups of people can be overwhelming for you. Consider tonight to be a similar practice in that sense to the one we just had.”

His sincerity made Will smile; even if their relationship status was an act, Hannibal did truly care about him. It was nice for a change. Maybe this whole scenario would help him do more than just catch a killer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long to update; I'll try to be more prompt for the next chapter. I have about 4-5 more chapters written in my head already so this will be a fairly long fic if you're willing to stick with me on it. Thank you all for your comments and support so far!


	4. Aggregate

Hannibal and Will returned downstairs, where the previous chefs were now rearranging Hannibal’s living room into tables of hors d’oeuvres decorated with fresh flowers, the smell of which was assaulting the air around them. 

“How long until it starts?”

“About five minutes. Are you okay, Will?”

“Swell.”

“Just remember, you always have me as your gauge,” Hannibal smiled, squeezing his hand lightly. 

Will nodded, anxiously biting his lip as the first guests strolled in. They looked vaguely familiar, though it could be that everyone was in similar dress to the opera. Hannibal greeted them by name, asking them something personal enough to make them believe he truly cared about their lives, then ushered them in by offering food. It was procedural but polite. Will tried not to stare too long at stray hairs or loose buttons or a speck of eye shadow gone amiss, flashing a detached smile to the strangers passing by. Just smile and look pretty and try not to get overwhelmed. It sounded laughably simple.

“Try to look like you actually want to be here, “ Hannibal whispered to him. Will fought back a snarl.

“It’s not easy for me to hide my emotions, unlike you.” Hannibal’s eyes shot onto his. “Sorry. That sounded a lot less awful in my head.”

“It’s fine. I’d just like to think I’m not torturing you on our dates.”

Will chuckled. “I can find something good in just about everything.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I try to figure out people without actually having to talk to them. It’s a lot more fun than it sounds.” He discreetly pointed to a couple lingering around a table with crab canapés. “She’s in it for the money, waiting for him to die, which, judging by his drinking habits, won’t be very much of a wait. She probably came here to meet someone else, actually; her last affair ended about a month or so ago and she’s gotten bored.”

“He’s the Financial Director of the Lyric Theater. What you just told me would ruin his career and reputation if it ever got out.”

“Good thing I just blindly analyze and don’t gossip, then,” Will smirked. 

“I wonder what someone with your perception would think of us, in this situation.” Hannibal turned to him, raising his eyebrows in honest curiosity. 

“I’m afraid my tools of perception don’t extend to myself.”

“Try for a moment.” Hannibal’s expression was deadpan and Will couldn’t tell if he was trying to get him to confess to whatever he was feeling about him, which he had gladly forgotten about for the past hour, or if he had no idea and was just genuinely curious. 

“I’d see a man who was very much out of his league and comfort zone trying to stay sane for the sake of the other.”

“Is that all?” Will swore he saw a flash of a smirk crawl out of Hannibal’s lips; he was playing with him, Will was sure of that now. He raised an eyebrow, not wanting to go on with this game anymore. 

“You aren’t being too hard on him, are you, Hannibal?” Will’s eyes flitted over in the direction of Alana’s melodic voice, mouth opening in surprise and embarrassment. 

“Well, Dr. Bloom, I guess I’ll have to let you decide. Good to see you, as always,” he smiled, taking her hand and gently kissing the back of it. She blushed and Will wrinkled his nose. 

“Nice to see you, Alana,” Will muttered, forcing a smile. 

“I’m glad to see that you two are happy together,” she smiled back. She was sincere; perhaps a little glad that she thought Will wasn’t interested in her anymore. Hannibal would be a good, stable partner for him, too. 

“Very,” Hannibal replied, turning his head to look Will in the eyes. There was a glimmer of something in his eyes; he had seen it at the opera and earlier in his bedroom, and it made him question exactly how much of this Hannibal wanted to be real. He closed his eyes, letting Hannibal’s lips press gently against his own yet again. It was their first true public display of affection - not by accident, in front of Alana, Will was sure - which made his face turn red. 

Alana didn’t seem phased in the slightest. “You’re a cute couple,” she beamed. “I can’t say I’m surprised; Hannibal’s been pining after you since he met you.”

“Really?” Will asked without filtering it through first, laughing to cover up his embarrassment. 

Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Didn’t he tell you? I thought he would’ve by now. How did you get together, anyway?” 

Will hesitated, mouth agape, as his mind searched for a good enough story, but Hannibal was two steps ahead of him, like always. “I invited him to dinner, then on a proper date,” he smiled. It was barely a lie.

“I’m glad you’re treating him well, Hannibal.”

“But of course.”

Will was still struggling to find words amidst his jumbled emotions as Alana was whisked away by the buzz of her phone; hopefully not Jack, because that meant there was a new case and he could barely cope with being a party right now. 

“Will.”

“Yes?” he blinked, looking at Hannibal. 

“The waiter asked if you would like some champagne.” 

Will focused back to reality, grabbing a glass and thanking the waiter, mumbling an apology to Hannibal as he tried not to gulp the whole glass down at once. 

“Will? Are you alright?” He could see Hannibal’s worried expression on the reflection of his glass.

Composing himself the best he could, Will faked a smile at the doctor. “I’m fine, I just need to go use the restroom for a minute, if you’ll excuse me.” 

Hannibal nodded in compliance, watching carefully as Will all but ran out of the room, disappearing up the stairs. He gave him seven minutes before excusing himself to find his date. 

He found Will curled up in a chair in his study, worrying the cover of Dante’s _La Vita Nuova_ with his thumb. “If you’re uncomfortable, I will ask the guests to leave, you need only tell me.”

Will swallowed nervously. “I didn’t want to ruin your party. I’m sorry I suck at the whole socializing thing.” 

“Nonsense,” Hannibal reassured him, slowly stepping towards Will. “I told you from the beginning that I would not make you do anything that made you uncomfortable. You are always allowed to end this whenever you wish.” 

Setting the book down, Will got up, his hand immediately grabbing his elbow to worry instead. “I didn’t want to disappoint you, or make you upset, or -“

“Will.” He cupped Will’s face in his hand gently, turning his face up to meet his own. “This is all for you; you don’t need to worry about me. Would you like me to end the party?” 

“I don’t know what I want.”

“Some more champagne, perhaps?” Hannibal teased, noticing the bone dry glass on the desk. Will flushed, but nodded in agreement; alcohol sounded wonderful, albeit a horrible solution to his racing mind. He followed Hannibal downstairs, where he took him to the kitchen. 

Hannibal muttered something to one of the staff, then reached into his pantry to retrieve a dark, golden red bottle and two scotch glasses. “I usually opt for wine, but I thought some whisky might cheer you up,” he said, pouring the liquor carefully. “It’s one of the Dalmore Trinitas; only three bottles were ever made, and the whisky itself is aged 64 years.” 

Will smelled the glass, hesitant to drink what must be one of the most expensive whiskies in the world, but took a sip after Hannibal. “It’s very rich and smooth; definitely the best bourbon I’ve ever tasted,” he reported, trying to show his gratitude.

“I’m glad. I rarely drink bourbon so I’m glad to hear that from an expert as yourself.”

Will huffed. “More of an alcoholic than an expert, really. Helps me sleep at night. Speaking of which, I should really be getting back soon. What time is it?”

“Nearly 10:30,” Hannibal replied. “If you would rather stay here, my bed is large enough for two.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“It’s a long drive and dangerous enough at night when you haven’t been drinking. Please, stay.” Hannibal’s eyes drove into him with his last word. Will wasn’t sure whether the warmth rushing through his body was from the whisky or from something else, the same something else that made his head spin when Hannibal had kissed him earlier, which he had pushed to the back of his mind until now. He raised his glass to his lips, tossing his head back as he downed the last shot of bourbon remaining. Hannibal took that as an agreement. 

A fuzzy haze settled upon Will’s brain as he followed Hannibal to his bedroom, silently noticing the disappearance of the party guests and kitchen staff on the way. His eyes flitted over Hannibal’s figure as the older man changed out of his suit and into pajamas - a red silk set with white pinstripes - catching a glimpse of his bare skin. Perhaps if he had been sober, it would’ve been awkward, but Will only followed suit and discarded his clothes in a disheveled pile on the floor, left only in his white undershirt and boxers. 

“Will.” Hannibal was already in bed, the covers pulled back on the other side, gesturing to the empty space. 

“Is this - is it okay?” He sat on the edge, feeling the plush mattress give way beneath him. 

A smile and a chuckle, somehow still with a discernible accent. “I wouldn’t have offered if it wasn’t. Couples usually share beds anyway, don’t they?” Will laughed in response, pulling up the covers as he laid down on his side. The remaining light turned off with a soft click.

“This is… surprisingly nice,” Will broke the silence, Hannibal barely able to see a flash of his white teeth in the dark, a faint scent of whisky on his breath. 

“I would hope so, these sheets are 1000 thread count and are imported from -“

“No, I meant being with you. Like this.”

A smooth hand brushed the hair from Will’s face, caressing it behind his ear. “I can’t remember the last time I shared my bed with anyone,” Hannibal murmured, “but I do like you being here with me.” 

Will mindlessly mimicked Hannibal’s actions, taking a piece of his hair between his fingers, eliciting a quiet sigh of contentment. It was refreshing to see Hannibal in such a normal, domestic setting; his features seemed softer and more human somehow when he was laying in the dark with him. Sure, he had always been affectionate towards Will, even more so the past few weeks, but this seemed like more.

“Do you want to kiss me?” Damn his whisky tongue. Hannibal’s hand froze in Will’s hair.

“Would you like me to kiss you? Or am I making you uncomfortable?” Will swore Hannibal’s voice was shaking a bit.

“I asked you,” Will whispered, inching his face closer, “do you want to kiss me, Hannibal?” 

Before the other could have a chance to answer, Will closed the gap between their bodies, cupping Hannibal’s jaw as he pressed their lips together. The older man exhaled deeply when they released, pushing his lips feverishly against Will’s. Hannibal kissed him open-mouthed as his fingers intertwined with curly hair, pulling Will deeper into the kiss, eagerly tasting his tongue against his own. They broke themselves apart only to breathe. 

“Yes,” Hannibal exhaled, moving his hand to Will’s waist to pull him closer, legs weaving together under the sheets. 

A soft hum of “good” as Will nestled his face under Hannibal’s chin, wrapping his arms around his middle as they drifted off to sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so awful at updating fics, I'm so sorry; but I haven't forgotten about it! I hope it was worth the wait and I'll try to get this next chapter out before the end of the month. Enjoy the fluff while it lasts!
> 
> This probably goes without saying but the quip about the Financial Director is totally made up and if that person exists, I'm sorry for using you in my gay cannibal fanfiction.
> 
> Also, the Dalmore Trinitas 64 is a real thing and costs $150,000. It even has a stag head on the bottle. I don't know if Hannibal would ever buy or drink whisky, but if he did, it would probably be that one. (And of course he'd save it for Will, right?)


	5. Peripeteia

Will never dreamed when he drank before bed. It was a respite he used far too often to escape from the nightmares induced by his overactive imagination; an addictive self-medication to a disturbing yet benign affliction. Sometimes it was the only way he could be sure that he wasn’t dreaming and what was happening was actually real. Now was one of those times, as his eyes opened parallel to Hannibal’s. He looked uncharacteristically scruffy with his messed hair and his rough, unshaven face, an image of him that few had ever witnessed, he thought, yet he seemed so comfortable letting Will see him.

“Did you sleep well?” Hannibal’s lips turned in a small smile of adoration as he ran his fingers lightly through Will’s hair, breathing in his scent.

“I think that was the best sleep I’ve had in a long time,” he answered, ignoring his slight headache in favor of staying in bed longer.

“Sleep is a very vulnerable state,” Hannibal mentioned. “Having someone beside us while asleep makes us feel more secure, which is psychologically beneficial as it lowers stress and anxiety.” 

“Are you suggesting we do this more often?” Will worried his lip with his teeth, easing up when Hannibal leaned in to kiss his forehead.

“I certainly wouldn’t object.”

“Would that still be considered therapy, Hannibal?” 

Hannibal’s expression turned blank. “Do you consider this to be therapy?”

“At what point do we cross the line into this being…” Will let his words drift away, half purposefully and half because he couldn’t bring himself to verbalize it.

“Real?” 

Will nodded, brushing his fingers along Hannibal’s stubble, lingering on his bottom lip. His lips parted to speak, interrupted by the doorbell reverberating through the house.

“I’ll be right back.” 

A second and Hannibal was gone, his footsteps treading lightly on the stairs. Will twisted his fingers into the sheets. What impeccable timing. Hopefully it was just UPS or something and they’d be quick, so they could get back to discussing this.

“Good morning, Jack.”

Will’s stomach dropped, twisting itself into a knot on the way down. 

“Sorry to wake you, Dr. Lecter,” Jack spoke, stepping inside, “I wasn’t able to contact Will this morning and I was in the area, so it was quicker to stop by and ask rather than call you.” 

A call he could ignore, a doorbell he couldn’t. Hannibal feigned ignorance, collecting his words. “Is something wrong?”

“We got a call this morning about another murder. I need Will on the scene.” His brow furrowed. “Is he here?”

“Yes, I’m here.” Will rushed in, only now realizing that he was only wearing boxers and a t-shirt as Jack scrutinizingly looked him over. “I stayed over last night after the party and my phone must’ve died,” he explained, breathing through his teeth. He could feel Jack’s anger perched under his chin, building up, waiting to spit out.

Hannibal interjected, “It’s my fault, I insisted he stay since it was late and we had both been drinking.” Jack’s eyebrows only raised further.

“If you’ll excuse us, Dr. Lecter, I’d like to have a word alone with Will.” 

He nodded in compliance, heading to the kitchen to give them privacy. Jack herded Will into the living room. 

“Give me one example of how this is helping you catch these murderers, because I’ve yet to see any benefit from it,” he spoke sternly, his eyes burning into Will. 

“I guess it helps me see better from their perspective.”

“You’ve never had trouble getting inside anyone’s head before. I don’t see how this is any different, or why this… experiment was even necessary in the first place.” Jack paused, watching Will’s face for insight.

“Hannibal’s the one who suggested it; why don’t you ask him why he thought it was a good idea?” he snapped. He couldn’t answer Jack because he wasn’t sure that it had really helped much at all. At this point, he was focused a lot more on Hannibal than on the killers. 

“I’m not asking Hannibal, I’m asking you.” Jack encroached further into Will’s personal space when he didn’t respond. “You told me you wouldn’t get too close.”

His words itched in his throat. “I haven’t.”

“You let your phone die because you got drunk and spent the night with Dr. Lecter. I can’t have you tired and hungover at a crime scene because of…“ Jack hesitated, lowering his voice,“whatever this is. People’s lives are at stake here.”

Will nodded, turning to head upstairs. “Okay, I’ll go get dressed and we can go.“

“I’m calling it off.” 

He faced Jack, brows twitching in confusion. “Calling what off?” 

“You and Dr. Lecter. It has to happen sooner or later and if it’s hurting you, me, and the rest of the FBI, then sooner is better,” Jack stated firmly. Will felt a wave of nausea come over him, his head pounding to his heartbeat.

“You probably need to consult with Hannibal about that first.” He felt Jack’s stare lingering, hoping he couldn’t hear his voice threatening to break. 

“I don’t need to consult with anyone when making decisions about my department and my employees. We’ve already made lots of exceptions for you, Will, I can’t afford to make any more,” Jack asserted, his words tinted with discontent. 

“I understand.” Every atom of Will’s being was telling him to flee the situation. He silently forced a nod and rushed up the stairs, though he knew his absence wouldn’t make it all go away. 

Hannibal waited a few moments before entering, carrying two mugs. “Would you like some coffee?”

“No, thank you,” Jack refused. “We really have to get going.”

“Forgive me if I’m overstepping my boundaries, but I couldn’t help but hear my name mentioned. Does this concern me as well?” Hannibal inquired, setting the mugs down on a side table. Even though he had been eavesdropping on their conversation, he wanted to discuss it with Jack himself.

Jack lowered his head, trying to find the most polite way to phrase his words. “I have the utmost faith in your psychiatry, Dr. Lecter and I appreciate all that you’ve done for Will, but I have to think of what the FBI needs. We can’t afford to have Will being irresponsible like this. I need him back in the saddle.” 

“So you’re breaking us up?” 

“Yes, if that’s what you want to call it. I don’t mean any offense to you or your work.”

“None taken,” he paltered. “You have to do what’s best for yours.” He followed Jack to the foyer; this wasn’t the time to try and persuade him to change his mind, no matter how much he wanted toargue. 

“Tell Will I’ll be waiting for him in the car,” Jack concluded, letting Hannibal close the door behind him. 

Hannibal found Will in his bedroom, shakily trying to fasten the last button on his shirt. He stepped towards him, taking Will’s shirt in his hands and helping him finish getting dressed. 

“I have to go -“ 

Hannibal grabbed his arm, holding him in place. “This is where we cross the line.”

Will blinked, forcing himself to make eye contact with him. “What?”

“You asked me earlier at what point this becomes real,” he said, moving his hand to cup Will’s face. “We were standing on that line before; now that we can’t pretend, we have to decide which way to go.”

“So we’d go from pretending to be in a relationship to actually being in a relationship but having to keep it a secret?” he asked, voice slightly shaking.

“We only have to keep it a secret from Jack.” Hannibal smiled at him, his eyes flitting across Will’s lips as he felt him lean into his hand.

“You’d want to do that?”  

Hannibal nodded lightly as he brushed his thumb across Will’s cheek. “I’ve kept bigger secrets before,” he murmured. “I want to be with you, Will.”

“I want to be with you, too.” 

They crashed together, lips fusing and kissing fervidly until they had stolen the air from each other’s lungs. Will wanted to stay like this forever, kissing Hannibal until his lips were swollen and numb. But Hannibal pulled away far too soon, gently holding him back. 

“If I don’t stop now, I would kiss you all day,” Hannibal reassured him, “but Jack is waiting outside and I don’t want him to get any more upset with you.” 

Will sighed in concession, knowing Hannibal was right, but the last thing he wanted to think about right now was murder. “When will I get to see you again?”

“Soon. We’ll arrange the details after you’re done with work.” He followed Will downstairs, sneaking a quick kiss on his temple before he left. 

It was a struggle to conceal his bliss in the car with the ghost of Hannibal’s lips still tingling on his skin, even with Jack’s radiating irritation. The roller coaster of emotions he had experienced in the past 24 hours was starting to catch up to him; he wasn’t sure if he could even be angry at Jack for “breaking them up” when it had actually brought them together. He might even have been happy about it.

“…found hanging in the closet, with the same X on his chest as the previous victims,” Jack spoke, looking over to Will for a response. “Are you listening?” 

“Yes, just processing it,” he lied, unaware of how long Jack had been talking at him and not really caring about it, either. The car purred to a stop in front of a duplex strewn with yellow crime scene tape welcoming their arrival. The block of suburbia was buzzing around them in commotion; it was a safe, quiet neighborhood where these sorts of things just didn’t happen. Then again, these killers had a hit list and their targets all seemed to be fairly well-off, normal people with no other enemies except them, of course. 

“Everybody out!” Jack commanded, guiding Will to the master bedroom as the other FBI staff scattered. “His name is Neal Adams, 24, worked as a manager at a local retailer. Do what you do and help get me some answers,” he stated, stepping out to give Will his privacy. Will closed his eyes, clearing his head so he could get inside of theirs.

_From you, of all people, I expected more. You promised me unconditional love and support; a fragile promise that was torn like tissue paper and carried off by the wind. I trusted you and you betrayed me. This is what I tell you, as I shove you in the closet that you tried to bury me in, the tape across your mouth reminiscent of how you tried to silence me, the noose around your neck like how you set me up to be hung. I watch you choke on tears of pain as I carve an X into your torso, deep enough to let your guts spill to the ground. This is my retribution._

“It was only one of them,” Will uttered, coming back to himself as he stepped out of the room. “They were both here, but this was deeply personal.”

“Personal in what way?” Jack inquired. 

“She confided in him about her relationship but he betrayed her. Threatened to tell someone, maybe her parents, if they didn’t break up. He went through with his threat and she ended up in a bad place because of it, so she made the closet his coffin.”

After contemplating for a minute, he asked, “You mentioned her parents; do you think he could be her brother, or a close friend?” 

“I’d guess family. Definitely closer than Mr. Palmer. They’re working their way up, saving the best for last. They’re disowning them how they were disowned by them.” Will started out of the house as the analysts swarmed the room with Mr. Adams’ body, anxious to leave now that his work here was done.

“I just hope we can catch them before they kill again,” Jack expressed. He dropped back, letting Will go, satisfied with the leads from his insight; he decided he had given him enough grief for one day to push him any further.

Dialing for a cab, Will walked down the street to wait, wanting to get away from the crowd. It had felt uncomfortably easy to empathize with the murderer, more so any time before. He even thought he might be starting to root for them, too. Killing bad people for doing bad things felt good. It even almost felt just; but that was another secret he’d have to keep to himself. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been forever since I updated; I lost my muse for a while among the craziness of life, but S3 has rekindled my inspiration for writing more Hannigram. I've also been working on some other fics, old and new, but this one is great when I need my happy fluff fix. 
> 
> I'll try to have the next chapter up quicker than this one! We're getting to the smut soon, don't worry ;)


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